ExBoyfriend
by funiichan
Summary: When a mercenary glares at you with narrowed eyes and slams his hand first into the wall, it usually means run away as fast as your feet can carry you but then it came to this particular mercenary, I had a particular death wish. Yaoi/Grestophe
1. Chapter 1

**Okay so I'm a little new to writing here, so hopefully this will be a good start. Anyways reviews fuel me so if you want me to continue I expect some feedback. **

-

"What ze 'ell do you theenk you're doing?" A well-muscled arm slammed down hard on the wall blocking my way.

When a mercenary glares at you with narrowed eyes and slams his hand first into the wall, it usually means run away as fast as your feet can carry you but then it came to this particular mercenary, I had a particular death wish. After all, why else would I have gotten involved with him in the first place? As his other hand reached for me, I swung away from him. "Fuck, what does it look like?"

"You're really pissing me off tonight beetch," he gritted out.

"Not that it's any of my damned business but what's pissing you off this time?"

Pissed off was an understatement, like a crazed guard dog straining at the leash, he was practically frothing at the mouth and it certainly wasn't a good sign. It wasn't often that I saw him like this, actually never. Christophe DeLorn might have a nasty bitch of a temper if the rumors were to be believed but he always kept it under tight rein. The mercenary had managed to control that particular brand of red-hot temper that had ruled his unruly, bad ass teenage years.

That tight ass control certainly didn't extend to his mouth. Christophe still had a sexy sneer and he showed it now, flashing a row of straight white teen under his twisted lips. "My beetch boyfriend's becoming a scene queen slut and I don't like eet."

"Your boyfriend?" Something about Christophe usually triggered an alarming suicidal tendency in me. Faced with a rampaging Godzilla mercenary, everyone else in possession of a sane mind would run and hide but I enjoyed seeing the man snarl and bristle. Truth be told, it got me hot as hell and my nipple hardened under his glare. "Oh, who is that? Some new trick of yours?"

My smart ass reply got me a fiery dark eyed glare that would have deep fried me on the spot if I wasn't particularly flame resistant by now. His only answer was a single word filled with sizzling heat that would have singed me six months ago and left me with second degree burns. "You."

When I set off from home to dance the night away in the clubs, I wasn't expecting vengeful men stalking me and chasing me into dark corridors. Trying to keep as calm as I possibly could even though I could feel my own usually cool temper bubbling, I replied. "That's where you're wrong. That's 'ex-boyfriend'."

The emphasis on ex only caused his nostrils to flare in a particularly arousing move. Seeing that he blocked my way, I tried to evade him only for him to deal me a rough shove that crushed me to the wall. No doubt some other man would have fought back with teeth, muscles and claw but I'd had my share of rolling around with Christophe enough to know that he would end up on top soon enough.

Christophe was a leaner, meaner Rambo with better fashion sense. Since I'd also seen him dispatch a group of muscle-bound Russians armed to the teeth with only his bare hands and without breaking a sweat. I knew I was no match for him. Muscles, height and technique were all on his side and I was only a 140 pound politic wannabe with no knowledge of martial arts apart from a reluctant appreciation for sexy, well built mercenaries.

Anyways, it was difficult to fight back when I was pinned like the proverbial butterfly to the wall. When I attempted to release myself from his choke hold, he backed me hard against the wall to shake my resistance. "Where ze 'ell do you theenk you're going?" he shot at me.

"Back to my dates." I hissed out, as much as I could without his forearm pressed threateningly against my throat. He wasn't applying much pressure, he might be mad as hell but I knew he wouldn't consciously hurt me. I might end up with a scratch in my throat but I wouldn't be getting my will read our loud anytime soon. Or so I hoped. "Tom, Dick and Harry as I recall." You'd know them, you've fucked them all."

Reference to his old days usually made him laugh but I could see that his sense of humor had deserted him. His dark eyes flared in aggression. "Now you're really trying to piss me off."

His voice had lowered to a soft whisper and I started getting worried. His bark was usually safer than his soft voice growl especially since the growl came just seconds before his painful bite. An odd analogy but it was true all the same. An alarm started ringing in my head, a quick slash of realization in my insane mind, and I slowly shifted my stance to escape when I met his gaze. Green fire, I'd called his eyes once and I recalled the last time I'd been just this close. The memory of his betrayal slashed through my brain, the sight of two magnificent men entangled in our silken sheets, the quick flash of his dark olive toned flesh over the others smooth ivory white skin, the soft groans and creaks that came from our bed, and through the humiliation made me want to sink down to my knees I stood firm this time and shot our heedlessly. "Well, if I'm a slut, I leaned from the best."

He shoved at me, daring me to say more. "What ze 'ell do you mean by zat?"

"Take it how you will."

"I'm not a fucking slut." Enunciating each world slowly, he glared at me coldly. "Ze man who goes home with a different man every night es one."

The fact was I usually left them standing frustrated at the stoop while I latched my door but I saw no reason to let him know that. Better that he believed I sucked and fucked half the male population of the city rather than the truth. The sad truth was I went home every evening miserably alone and spent my time catching up on the television serials. It was better than facing the beautiful, desirable men in the clubs, bright flashy smiles, marvelously golden tanned and wonderfully gym toned and realizing that none of them could ever compare to the French man I'd left behind.

Radically changing my image after he left wasn't the easy solution I'd imagined. Picking up new clothes, didn't change who I essentially was inside. Sure it certainly got me noticed at the clubs and it got me plenty of numbers but I found that I wasn't looking for a mindless, sweaty one night fuck in the backrooms. It just wasn't me. Dancing up a storm on the dance floor with the thumpa-thumpa music playing, the flashing strobe lights and sweaty, shirtless men had never been my style and it was even less enticing without Christophe at my side. When I came home late, I still picked up my glasses, dug up my musty old books and listened to classical music while trying my best to forget about him.

It wasn't easy forgetting, everything I saw and touched in my apartment reminded me of him. The sink he'd repaired, the ornate shelve he'd griped and complained when I'd bought and yet he'd put it up framed black-and-white pictures we'd taken on a whim.

"That's the new me, you didn't like the old clingy one as I recall. Boring, dependable and reliable, I think you called me." It still hurt that a man I'd known for so long felt that way. Certainly I imagined myself the same way but I always hoped that he saw something else in me that was intriguing enough to make him stay.

"What ze fuck do you mean?" Christophe hissed out and he reached out to grip my arms tight. His hands were strong and I remembered the way his long, clever fingers had gone down my naked body. He narrowed his gaze as he looked at me closely. "Why do you take what I said seriously?" I'm a 'upid, self-involved sheet who doesn't know any better. I love ze old, clingy you. I loved ze man who dressed up in orange dress shirts, wakes up at seven, works nine to five. Reads thick novels by the fire. Secretly mimics Broadway musicals in ze shower when he doesn't theenk anyone es listening. Ze man who's already planned what he would be doing a year from now in his planner. Ze man who wipes ze tabletop when there es a ring."

After having my fill of the clubs these past few weeks, I realized that I preferred my old self to but I wasn't about to admit that to him. "A regular boring stick in ze mud."

I got a quick wince from him as he recalled what he'd said. Letting out a sigh, Christophe finally eased away from me a bit. "Look, I was a brainless faggot!"

"Well that me is gone."

"Bullsheet!" The thick, lush fan of his lashes swept down as he narrowed his beautiful green eyes.

"What kind of mixed signals are you sending me?"

"I don't know!" He raked his fingers down his messy brown hair, crying out in frustration as he did so. He pulled his hand away and slammed his fist hard against the wall, causing chips to fly.

It would almost have been funny if it wasn't happening to me. And the worst part was I would normally have called my best friend to tell him all about the asshole who cheated on me and he would make it all better. Unfortunately this time around, my best friend was also my cheating boyfriend. "Send me a memo when you've finally got it analyzed."

"Where are you going?" As I tired to move down the hallway, he hauled me back. "Get back 'ere."

"What do you want from me, Christophe?" I asked him quietly. "You say you don't want a stay-home boyfriend, you don't want commitment, and you don't want a relationship. You want some damned god-damned fucking space. I've given you all that. Now you don't want us to be apart. You get all jealous, you punch out my dates. What the hell do you want?"

My point managed to find its way across and he stared at me. "All I know es zat I just want you, dammit."

It was difficult enough to deny what I felt without hearing him say it. If he only knew how hard it was to keep from falling headlong onto his arms. Falling in love had never been easy, at least for me but with Christophe it had been so natural and so easy that I'd never even realized it happening. "Well, if that's all you want, I'm fine with it. You were always great in bed. Let's go down to the backroom. I've got ten minutes to spare." Great in bed was another underestimate since we practically spontaneously combusted each time we got together. Christophe wasn't called sex god for nothing. Not only did he look good enough to eat, he had the most incredible hands and mouth and it didn't surprise me at all that despite his shitty behavior, his discarded lovers frequently came back for more.

His reaction to my proposition was immediate and he stumbled back away from me as if I were carrying a contagious life threatening disease. His eye spit fire as he hissed out his reply. "Fuck you, zat not what I meant and you know eet."

"That's all you're going to get, a one night stand that I can deal with. You're not messing with my head again." Just to antagonize him, there were some pills I'd been handed earlier by the twigged out twink I'd bumped into and I dragged them out from my pocket. God knows what that cocktail contained but then I didn't have any intention to use it.

Christophe stared down at the pills and then back at me as if I'd sprouted two heads. "What ze fuck… es zat crystal? You're doing drugs?"

"It's fun, it hip, it's as far away from boring as I can get." Sure, I usually tossed them in a bin but he didn't have to know that. Better he thought I was some drugged out circuit queen. "Bye-bye old and stodgy. Hello youthful ecstasy."

Grabbing the small packets before I could hold on to it, he snatched them and tossed them behind him. "Fuck zat, and if you theenk I don't know you well enough to know zat you'd never use them, you've got another thing coming."

"Now, that was constructive." I followed the direction as the packet landed on the floor and a club patron crushed it underfoot. "Well, if you don't care to use them, we can just get on with it then." With him standing that close, I reached over, caught in the waistband of his jeans and tugged him close. His familiar scene drifted close, the fresh smell of earth and tangy musk of his sweat and the spice of his cologne. It never failed to raise my temperature and I could already imagine the heat and sweat of his hard physique sliding against mine. A tingle sizzled up my fingers as I neared the seductive bulge of his crotch, feeling the hard pulsing dick growing steadily in his pants.

For the first time, Mr. Ever Ready for a Fuck slapped my hands away angrily from his crotch. As he stepped back, he gave me another one of his searing looks. A muscle stated twitching reflexively on his tensed jaw. "Stop zat, I don't want a quick fuck."

Talk about something from the history books. It was the fist time he'd rejected someone's advances and I wondered whether I should be insulted. Christophe usually took on all comers, excluding women, and left them all blissfully satisfied and well fucked. "That wasn't what you were thinking when you fucked him!" My God, I was sounding just like a jealous queen.

Stung by my comment, a wave of guilt ran through his dark, handsome face. "I didn't plan on any of zat happening. I was drunk. I was high."

It had been the excuse he'd tossed at me before and I didn't buy it anymore that I did then. "Yeah, did drunken little you just innocently fall over and accidentally land into his ass? All I've got to say is you've got a real good aim, DeLorn."

"Damn you beetch, got some 'ell of a mouth on you." Before I could react, he snatched me close and kissed me. The classic snatch and grab method always worked on me, and it worked ever better parried with a pair of tight guns and a hard, chest and I soon found myself melting irresistibly as his warm, sensuous lips dragged slowly across mine. I loved Christophe and I knew that he was more than just a sum of his parts but it was hard to think of his intelligence and his sense of humor when he had his beautiful, hard body pressed against mind, the solid contours of his muscles flexing powerfully against me, the impressive length of his erection burning against my thigh.

Used to the wild shenanigans in the club, no one paid any attention to us as Christophe really got into this kiss. Men desperately groping each other in the corridors didn't merit a glance from the clients, apart from an admiring glace at Christophe's impressive body. As I found myself delighting in his taste and his scent, I found my hands stealing down the hard muscled ridges of his back, following the sinuous curve of his spine down to the perfect curves of his ass.

"Get the hell away from me." For the first time in my life, I resorted to physical violence as I slugged him in the face. In the battle against the solidity of his jaw, my right hand lost and it started feeling numb.

Hardly moved by my punch, he wiped the blood from his lip with an arrogant sneer. "Picked up some moves. That's on ze house, Gregory cause I admit I 'ave been a asshole but don't theenk you're gonna land another punch on me again." As he scanned me and let his glances rest lightly on at my crotch he laughed wickedly. "You're still my beetch, Gregory. Oh you still want me so damned bad."

With the insistent boner in my pants, there was no denying the truth. There was a dangerous gleam in his green eyed gaze and I knew that I'd crossed the line somewhere. One free punch was all I was going to get, the next one would have me landing flat on my butt with him on top. And even with an audience, I doubt it would stop him from doing whatever he wanted and I doubt I'd be in a position to stop him.

It was all I could do to spit at him and get the hell out. God, I needed some ice on my knuckles.

**- **

**Good, bad? Leave some reviews!  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews guys, I really appreciate it. Anyways here's a new chapter. **

--

Thankfully, making an escape hadn't been a problem since Christophe surprisingly gave up the chase after a while. It made me somewhat suspicious for a few moments before I dismissed it. There was no need to be paranoid. The man wasn't insane, he wouldn't be caught dead running desperately after some guy for two blocks.

My knuckles still stung from their encounter with Christophe's steal hard jaw, felt like I'd rammed into a brick wall. I gingerly flexed my fingers and felt sharp pricks of pain shooting up my arm.

"Fuck."

Standing two blocks away, it was obviously worthless trying to get back into the club knowing Christophe was prowling inside no doubt waiting for another go at me so I decided to call it a night and headed home.

As I entered my apartment loft, I didn't bother switching on the lights and headed for the bedroom. In the living room, an antique brass lamp by the coffee table provided a dim illumination enough for me to find my way. Months back, Christophe had gotten the lamp at some flea market. In spite of the fact that he was independently wealthy now, he still loved the challenge of a good bargain.

It was difficult enough seeing him at the club without having reminders of him in my own apartment. Although I'd left a message for him to retrieve his belongings, he stubbornly refused to pick them up, no doubt clinging to the idea that I'd give in and take him back, therefore saving him the problem of packing. When I'd kicked him out, he had only taken an overnight bag. No doubt he was wealthy enough to replenish his whole wardrobe if he wanted to.

So my wardrobe still had his designer clothes in them, the sleek Italian combat boots he gotten in Milan, the lingering scent of his spicy cologne. According to Breakup Rule 101, it would have been prudent to have gotten rid of everything and it was always at the back of my mind to donate his clothes to the nearest shelter but I found I couldn't. An experiment at removing some of his belonging left a gaping hole in my wardrobe, and left me with such a keening sense of loss that I found myself stunned. When had I turned into some wimpy, co-dependent loser?

Looking up into the built in mirror, I barely stifled a smile. Tight tee ala international male definitely wasn't my look. Sure, I had the build to look okay in them but it wasn't me. Shaking my head in disgust, I shrugged off the shirt and tossed it into the laundry bin, seconds later it was joined by my stonewashed jeans.

"Looking good, Gregory."

At the sound of the appreciative comment, I froze in front of the mirror, my heart suddenly turning cartwheels in my chest. Phantom voices in the night would have had me reaching out for the baseball bat by my bedside but I knew that voice well enough. Cautiously I turned my gaze in the direction of the voice towards the relative gloom of my bedroom where a pair of cool green eyes watched from the dark.

"Shit, Christophe you scared the shit out of me."

Like a dangerous jungle cat stalking its prey, he watched me silently without speaking. God was in an exceptionally generous mood when Christophe was made, that was for sure. Sinfully good looking in spades, dark heavily lashes green eyes matched with a full lipped sensual mouth, a strong jaw line now peppered with day old stubble and classically high cheekbones. I noticed that he shrugged on the sleek, tailored knee length black coat I'd gotten him for Christmas and damned he looked good. The seconds ticked by before he slowly slid out from his perch on the bay window seat and came toward me. Those sexy lips curled into a wicked little smile and his perfect white teeth flashed brightly like a warning in the dark. "From zat tight ass, highly unlikely."

Christophe had obviously killed off all my instincts of self-preservation. When faced with an ex-boyfriend with a killer instinct, I didn't do the obvious, and get the hell out. Like one of those moronic blonde in slasher flicks, I walked inexorably towards my doom. Instead I faced him, a man who could kill with his bare hands, dressed in only my briefs. Faced with such a decision, I headed for the laundry to retrieve my shirt. "Christophe, what the hell…"

The French man never let me finish my sentence. It was getting to be quite a habit. From the slow, menacing prowler in my bedroom, he suddenly kicked up the tempo, swept across to me and had me pinned on the wardrobe door in seconds. Before I could even make a comment on the amazing tricks he'd picked up, he'd inexplicably changed his tactics and had his sexy lips crushed against mine to shut me up.

Quick as a flash, his hot lips tracked their way up my jaw line to breathe warmly into my ear. "Eet has been a long time, mon amour." One hard, thigh eased itself between mine and I let out a soft moan. It was difficult not to think of his third leg when the hard, thick length was pulsing against my thigh.

As his magical fingers threaded their way down my back, sliding down across my naked skin, I struggled in his embrace. Always a smart man, he knew that he would lose his advantage once I started thinking with my head, and not my dick. Just as he reached for me again, I twisted my head aside and mouthed out softly. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Shutting you up."

He never needed any tricks up his sleeve for that when he had that amazingly talented mouth of his. Easy enough to conjure up images of Christophe backing me up against the door, kissing me voraciously like a starving man since he'd done it in a similar variations so many times before. What ever problems we had together, our sex life had always been stellar. Even as a flood of x-rated memories filled my brain, I stubbornly pushed him away. "How did you get in here? I changed my locks."

Stunned at my comment, he allowed me to shove him away, raising his dark brows. "Es zat some kinds of cheep insult?"

Okay, I might have forgotten his uncanny ability to magically phase through bolted doors. It was all part and parcel of Christophe DeLorn, the French Mercenary. "Get out, I'm calling the police."

"Try eet. I could 'ave you tied up and naked in ze time you took to dial ze number." He said simply.

It wasn't an idle threat since I'd actually seen him do so a few months back at an unsightly bar brawl; the three men were dispatched as easily as if batting away an annoying fly. The hard, sculpted muscles in his arms weren't only for show. Afterward, he only turned back to his beer without second glance as if nothing had happened. As I moved away and reached for a towel, he laughed a low almost tone. "Are you shy, mon amour?"

"Shut up," I mumbled in annoyance as I tied the towel around my waist. Not only did I feel miserably vulnerable, I was also half naked in my briefs which certainly wasn't the way I was hoping we'd have our confrontation. So I was a prude, I was proud of it unlike Christophe who dropped his pants at the least provocation.

Instead of moving on to the next subject, he saw fit to remind me. "I 'ave seen your bare ass before."

"Not recently." I slashed out meanly.

He smiled again. "So you want me to rectify the situation?"

Every comfortable with partial nudity, Christophe reached down to tug on his tight black tee and I yelled. "No!" It was difficult enough talking to him without the distraction of his naked body. Perfectly sane, logical women were know to go wild like a band of obsessive, sex crazed Maenads at the sight of his naked, well muscled, perfectly proportioned body. Not exactly the picture of sanity, I was tempted to run along with them.

He let out a deep sign. "You are not going to make zis easy, are you?"

"Why should I?" I turned back to the closet and peeled out a white t-shirt and shorts to slip on.

With a quiet nod, he acknowledged the truth of what I said. "Fine, what do you want me to say zen?"

"There's nothing that you haven't said, Christophe." It was the truth after all. When I'd walked in on Kyle and him, I'd done the mature thing stupid honorable me, made a polite request for them to leave and then stalked out of the apartment. In retrospect, I wish I'd been able to shed my conservative middle class sensibilities and just go crazy, throwing vases around, breaking the antique table and wrecking Kyle's thousand dollar nose job. It was what Christophe himself would have done. Thinking of what he would have done if I'd been the one caught cheating on him left me with a shudder. Though wild rumors abounded about his past, he rarely spoke of what he did then, but the little I learned from him left me hoping that I'd always remain on his good side if at all possible.

Ever the optimist, he'd tried to corner me when he came for some of his clothes but I'd skillfully managed to avoid him, albeit by skulking down the back stairs like a common thief. With the wealth he'd accumulated, he could certainly afford a suitably large, well appointed penthouse if that was what he wanted but according to the grapevine, he'd gotten himself checked in at a nearby hotel.

If he was thinking of a warm welcome back, he had another thing coming.

"Come on, Gregory I made a god dammed mistake. 'ow much longer do you want me to pay?" Christophe didn't make any move to get closer to me but stood at the entrance to my bedroom, looming dangerously. Although his words were conciliatory, his vividly green eyes flashed in growing annoyance.

For what it was worth, it was the closest he'd ever come to a plea and it surprised me. The Christophe I knew didn't plead; he bellowed out commands and shot out orders to be followed. "You made it clear you didn't want anything permanent between us. Called it soppy, domesticated hetero shit. What has changed?"

"I 'ave changed. I 'ate being alone without you. I 'ate coming home and not 'ave you waiting for me. I 'ate standing in the bar without you by my side."

"Where did this all come from?"

Christophe looked at me with those beautiful green eyes for a moment before replying. "Eet took me at least six minutes after you left before I realized what a stupid fool I 'ave been. I was letting go of ze man I want to spend the rest of my life with for a stupid, meaningless fuck."

To say I was astonished at his revelation would be the understatement of the year as it would have been easier for him to slam a solid brick wall into my face. It was if someone else had taken possession of his sinfully sexy, body. Not only had he single mindedly thrown all his previous anti-monogamy doctrines out the window, he'd come just that close to making a commitment, something that had always seemed to be an anathema to him. Being in a committed relationship seemed like a cruel and pointless punishment for him or at least for the Christophe I knew before. Closing my eyes, I backed away from the dark, handsome Frenchman. "What are you trying to do? Are you trying to drive me insane? I can't have you barging in at two in the morning wanting to get back together."

"You wouldn't listen otherwise, you don't return my calls, you change your mail address, you run when you see me coming." Never one to concede defeat, he pointed that out as he followed me doggedly into our bedroom. I mean, my bedroom, really. Instinct told me to kick him our immediately but I knew that short of developing super strength, I wouldn't be able to oust Christophe from the room willingly. It set my mind to thinking even as I absently picked up the coat he'd carelessly dropped on the floor.

Seeing the habitual me I made, he couldn't help making his point. "And damn eet, you 'aven't change."

"That's what you'd like, wouldn't you?" The coat fell from my hands as if I'd been burnt and I turned swiftly with a heated glare. "That I'd be a dependable old Gregory, the guy you could depend on to get dinner ready while you play hide the salami with the neighbor and his seventeen year old son."

"There es no neighbor and there es no…" The anger in my voice only sparked off a similar reaction in Christophe as he marched straight up to me, gritting his teeth tightly as he spoke. "Fuck zat. After you, there was only Kyle. Eet was the one time."

"Says you, look it's not entirely your fault, I knew what I was getting into. Christophe. The man who's been there. Done it, fucked them all."

"Shut eet." His eyes darkened in aggression as he narrowed his gaze at me, his fists clenched tightly at his sides as he fought to maintain his burgeoning temper. If I were anyone else, I'm sure I'd be smashed to a pulp on the wall right about now. "I know my word means sheet to you now but eet es ze truth. We had zat stupid fight, I don't even remember what eet was about, I stormed off for a drink and zen Kyle came along. Eet was meaningless. Eet was stupid. Look, for what eet es worth, I'm…"

"Don't apologize, it's not you. Just get the hell out." I said quietly.

Christophe was never a man to give up without a fight. "You're going to listen as I say zis and I'll be damned if I'm going to grovel. I never could say eet to you before because I never believe zat eet could 'appen to me but eet has. Je t'aime, Gregory." He said it coolly and firmly, his strong legs spread wide apart ready to take on any comers. Despite his cool, calm, kick ass demeanor, I could see there was a shit load of nerves written all over his dark green eyes.

It wasn't the first time those words had come between us. Foolishly blinded by a first love, I'd said it to him hoping beyond hope for an affirmation but he'd never said it in return. The words didn't seem to matter that much to him at the time. Only words he'd said, only words and nothing matter as much as action. Then he'd put those lips on mine and I'd forget all about it. Those simple words meant the world to me however, even now after all we'd been through, and my knees trembled like a giddy schoolboy's to my utter amazement. "You're only saying that."

"You know I wouldn't lie about zis." Keeping his gaze intent on mine he continued earnestly. "Are you going to let one stupid mistake like zis destroy what we had together? If you really theenk zat you can never forgive me, zat you could never learn to love me again, zat everything zat 'appened between us means absolutely nothing, just say the word and I'll leave."

I was silent. What more could I say?

"Gregory. Please."

Finding myself unable to look him in the face, I turned away and whispered softly, "Get out, Christophe."

This time he didn't make another move, as always the man moved like the wind. And like the wind, his passing left me in the cold.


	3. Chapter 3

**Last chapter in this bittersweet story, my hands hurt right now. I had to force myself to finish! **

--

My resolution only lasted all of three days. Although I could have held on to my grudge for a longer time, there really wasn't much of a choice for me since I'd gotten an urgent call about a disturbance. Since I'd received the tip, I found Christophe at the first place I searched for him. The neighborhood bar I'd first seen him at. We'd been on and off regulars there since then.

Then there was the excruciatingly painful on hour advice from one of my best friends, Wendy which left me feeling less like a victim than a cruel, heartless monster with a crazy jealous streak who wasn't deserving of a beautiful prince like Christophe. Perhaps she was a little biased, no doubt swayed by Christophe's tight abs, but that didn't mean there wasn't a shred of truth in what she said.

Standing at the bar as was his usual, the owner noted my entry and gestured to the end of the bar with a raised of his brows. Thanking him for his heads up, I headed that way. It was a Friday night, still quite early by regular standards but a respectable crowd had already gathered by then.

It wasn't all that hard finding him, Christophe sat by himself on a stool at the end of the bar. Once I saw him, it certainly came as no surprise to me that he'd been causing such a commotion. Dark, handsome, his gorgeous face clouded with a scowl and a five-o-clock shadow, his beautiful eyes stubbornly shut. Dressed in a loose white shirt and black jeans, they served to accentuate the power and strength of his lithe, well muscled form, the perfect curve and line of his physique promising physical perfection to any one who dared venture beneath the cloth. Unattainable, aloof, awash in his own grief and yet there was an almost palpable aura of sexual energy around him that he had half the bar discreetly checking him out. It was so potent that I could almost smell it in the air, the musky scent of his pheromones drawing me irresistibly close.

It seemed that I wasn't the only one with a yen for Christophe particular brand of sexual appeal. In the torrid concrete jungles of the world, the hungry predators could certainly sense his deliciously potent presence. It wouldn't be long before someone initiated the chose. Breaking apart from the fold, a dangerous looking blond with a perfect golden tan and a spectacular ass made his move, coming close enough for something approaching a come-on.

Proving to me that the beast wasn't entirely tamed yet, there was a quick flash of Christophe's brilliant green eyes, and unfurling of his full, sexy lips to whisper something and he had the blond hurriedly scurrying back into the masses. There was a pink flush of embarrassment on the blond's face.

Ouch. That certainly had to hurt. I had to hide my smile.

Braving his obvious anger, I slowly wound my way down to the end of the bar. As I came close, he didn't make any response, maintaining his silent communion with the half empty beer mug in front of him. Throwing caution to the wind, I placed my hand on his muscled shoulder on to have him turn on me with a disgusted snarl. "Look, not fucking interested."

The proverbial heat waves from his palpable fury practically seared the top layer of skin from my face. Evidently as I'd prophesied, the lid had blown off the volcano and if it had been anyone else but me, I could easily believe that my head would have been torn off, no doubt with one of his obscure but painfully effective moves. From the looks of things, more than one of the persistent admirers of his gorgeous form had obviously been decapitated previously but I resisted the urge to look down on the floor for blood stains.

Recognizing me in spite of his slightly inebriated state, he pulled back with a soft sigh. "Oh sheet es you. Gregory." The fierce savagery in his eyes faded away, the burning fires in those deep green eyes banked down for the moment.

"Did you expect someone else?" The hard edge in my tone had him flashing me a glare and I quickly put up my hand in apology. No reason getting him all fired up for nothing. Taking the empty stool beside him, I sat gingerly, keeping a close eye on him. In this odd unpredictable mood there was no guessing what Christophe was capable of doing. "Yes, it's me."

Along with the spicy cologne I associated with him, there was also a faint whiff of alcohol about him and I knew he was even more dangerous now. No one would doubt that Christophe could hold his alcohol, it didn't make him lose is head but it made him unaccountably mean.

"Tricking again?" He sneered, a nasty glint in his eyes.

Hardly subtle, it was a comment no doubt calculated to rile my own temper but I resisted the urge. Knowing him, he would love it if we both got into a drag down, no holds barred bitch fight that would certainly have me at a severe disadvantage. Not only would he be able to get his hands on me, he knew that I certainly wouldn't be able to resist him. Unfortunately I had a pathetic weakness and its name was Christophe. One quick rub of his excellent physique against mind and I'd be cheap putty in his hot hands.

There was no need to tell him that I was as irresistibly attracted to his fatal flame like the other people in the bar. It was a fact that the arrogant bastard already knew. Calling out my order to the bartender as he walked by, I slowly turned back to him. "Actually no, this time I'm here for you."

He slammed his forehead hard down on the bar, his fists clenching angrily. "Fuck, are you 'ere to dump on me again? I can tell you than you can't make me feel worse than I already do."

The man looked mad enough to eat nails. Perhaps I could mollify him by telling him that I'd come expressly for him but I decided to try the unvarnished truth instead. "I got a call from the owner. Seems you're scaring away his customers." I released a quick shrug of my shoulders.

"Sheet." Flicking his handsome head toward me, he tried for a smile. "So you are 'ere for an intervention? You going to wrestle me down to ze ground and 'aul me out?"

Although calming the sexy beast seemed to be the main idea here, there was a growing twinkle in his vividly green eyes that irritated me for some reason. One thing with his terrible black moods was his uncanny ability to switch back to his cheery, irritating self.

"You'd just love that, wouldn't you?"

Despite his obvious desire to rumble, there was nothing wrong with his hearing, and his ready sense of humor and his dark features softened as he finally smiled. "Certainly wouldn't 'urt."

"Damn." Talk about irresistible. One swift curl of his soft, sensuous lips and it was like he'd drawn the spotlight in the room onto himself. Some guys are just natural showstoppers, commanding attention wherever they went. All around me, I could hear the pants falling to the floor around the room as he finally flashed that all but irresistible smile of his.

It was the curse I just had to bear, Christophe was always going to draw the attention of everyone, male and female and anyone who entertained any ideas about staying with him just to had to live with it. "Fuck."

The dazzling smile on his dark face faltered slightly at my barely whispered curse. "What es eet?"

There was no way I'd pander to his enormous ego by adding praise to his obvious good looks. On anyone else, the dirty stubble would have made them look unbearably derelict and unkempt but on the Frenchman, he looked untamed, rakish and just to damned sexy. It was almost impossible not to imagine him rubbing the bristles across my naked shoulder as he'd done many times before. Life was defiantly unfair and I just had to bitch about it.

"Look, just listen. Don't say anything."

Keeping quiet certainly wasn't one of his good points. "I 'ave to, Gregory. I never wanted zis to 'appen. There was no way I could 'ave seen eet coming. We 'ad zat stupid fight over sometheeng absolutely inconsequential. Some brainless faggot- meaning me- imagined zat he'd be 'appier in a more open relationship. I really thought I wasn't prepared for a committed relationship. Stupid beetch zat I am, I felt as if I was being trapped. I didn't know if I 'ad what eet takes to remain with one guy for ze rest of my life. After zat fight, I got drunk and high. I wanted to make you insanely jealous." Alcohol obviously loosened his tongue considerably making his points largely disconnected.

An old story that had been rehashed in novels and movies since the first bad boy found his way into someone's mammoth rug. Christophe had never been fully contended in a committed relationship, he was a slut with a roving eye and a dick that simply refused to be confined. I'd always maintained that the reformed rake only existed in badly written bodice-rippers.

"Christophe." I was about to stop him since I'd head the same tirade before but he was having none of it.

One tanned hand flew out to grab mine and as I tried unsuccessfully to tug away, he held on firmly, keeping his frightful green x-ray vision fixed on mine. "You 'ave got to believe me."

"I do."

"It took me less than a week before I realized what a mistake I was making with you. What ze 'ell was I doing trolling around for tricks when all I ever wanted was sitting at 'ome. It was 'ell coming back, opening the door and you weren't there. Gregory, I need you in my life, perhaps more than you ever needed me." His words tumbled out in a surprising rush and he looked up at me through shaded lashes, his beautiful green eyes looking almost vulnerably. Unshed tears shone in the leafy green depths. "Zen again, you probably never needed me."

"You're wrong there." How could I not have him in my life?

A gleam of hope flashed in his eyes and he edged closer to me. "I am sorry, Gregory. You can't imagine 'ow sorry I am. If I could do… but it's already over and done, so regretting what I did would be stupid. I promise…" Christophe wasn't a physically affectionate man and it surprised me when he pulled me closer.

"No apologies, Christophe. And look, I don't want any promises from you either." To late, it occurred to me that he'd never actually made any promises to me when we'd gotten together. There had been no soppy declarations of love or commitment. He'd never actually lied to me before since he'd never agreed to a lifetime of monogamy with me in the first place. It was all in my head.

"I 'aven't given up on us, Gregory. If you theenk I'll just let you go-" His grip on me lessened as he realized that he was making a scene and he let me go. As I took my own seat, he turned back to his silent contemplation of his beer before speaking again. A shadow of his wicked grin curled up his sexy lips. "I know a better man would step aside for you to find ze perfect love you are looking for somewhere else, and you deserve all zat, but I am selfish fucking bastard. I'm not ze perfect man so I'm not giving you zat chance. I don't give up zat easily. I made a stupid mistake and I-"

The gauntlet was thrown. Never giving up was a trait he was well known for and I smiled. Okay, so he hadn't been totally brainwashed by some alien.

"Enough. I don't need an apology. Unlike leather and denim, penitence doesn't become you."

"Hey." Christophe offered me a wicked smile. "I resent zat observation. I 'ave it on good authority zat I can make anytheeng look good."

Arrogant bastard. "Whatever." But it had me smiling as he'd probably intended. "It was stupid of me to even ask it of you. You're a guy and a bastard, a horny, sexually active bastard, you make occasional slip ups. You fuck around indiscriminately, if you didn't we wouldn't be here together in the first place."

"Gregory, I swear. I won't fuck around anymore."

Sincerity could be his middle name but I couldn't take any chances this time. "I said no promises. Let's just take it one step at a time this time." It was difficult coming to such a painful compromise but it was even more painful trying to imagine coming home to an empty bedroom without Christophe.

He looked at me with those luminous green eyes and I could easily see how he had drawn all the attention in the bar. "Baby."

"Look, I understand. I don't make things any better with my crazy jealousy." It was hard not to get insanely jealous when half the guys on the street craned their necks to ogle his ass when he walked by. Of course Wendy claimed I turned a hideous shade of green each time it happened.

For once instead of pointing his finger at me and shouting smugly, the man decided to take the high road. "Hey eet's not zat crazy."

There was tenderness in his tone that had my pulse speeding up but I willed myself to keep it down. There was no way I'd repeat the mistake of shamelessly jumping his bones in the bar like I'd done that memorably first time. Since the one thing that would take my mind of his sexual magnetism was my friend's call earlier, I decided to mention it to him. "Believe me, once I heard it from Wendy, it did sound a little crazy. Correction, after on hour of yelling, I started to sound a little crazy too."

Wendy was one of my best friends and she'd seen enough of the both of us to reserve the right for judgment. Smart enough to know when to keep quiet in spite of the booze, Christophe just grinned wickedly.

"You're always going to be the heartthrob and everywhere you go, all the guys are going to want to sleep with you."

Well, a normal guy would have blushed and stammered. Christophe wasn't just any other guy. Giving me a devilish grin, he just nodded and took what was his due. "I 'ave standards, I only sleep with some of zem."

I laughed as he'd wanted me to. It was amazing. No matter how mad I became at him, that could never quite sever the incredible connection we had between us. "I should punch you for that but I'm afraid in your drunken state, you'll kill me."

"I don't kill ze one guy I 'ave plans for monogamy with. It would Bogart my plans for sex tonight."

"Counting your chickens."

Pleased that he finally gotten over one hurdle, Christophe leaned over confidently. There was no reason for me to lean back this time however. As he moved even closer, his green eyes turned heavy lidded and his breath burned against my cheek. I could already imagine the both of us tangled up in my sheets tonight even as the intoxicating scent of alcohol swirled around me. "You're going to play 'ard to get?"

"No, tonight I'm easy." Why bother arguing the point? I had come to the table with a compromise in order and if Christophe was all eager to celebrate, who was I to disagree? And I certainly wouldn't mind feeling that hot, hard body crushed against mine again.

"Sounds about right."

"And you're still an arrogant bastard."

It was the first time I leveled such an accusation at him and he just laughed unself- consciously. Could I say that I even found his low, deep throated laugh sexy? When he finally got his breath back he took my hand in his and gazed into my eyes intently. "Look, I know I look great, great enough zat most guys would want to sleep with me as you so succinctly put eet but zat's all there es to eet. They want my face, my body, my cock but zat's all. Not one of zem would prepare soup for me when I am 'aving a cold. Not one zem would take me out for a dance when I'm feeling down. Not of of zem cares zat I like to play in ze dirty. Not one of zem loves me for who I am, instead of what I look like."

It was the first time I'd heard this from him. And he didn't say it to make me laugh. It annoyed me that each time I tired to find something to hate about him, I just found myself falling ever deeper for him.

I gave him a soft kiss on his stubbled cheek and he chuckled softly. "Lets try this again, Christophe."

**--**

**The end!  
**


End file.
